


i'll find you

by actualflower



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (at the end) - Freeform, Alistair fawns over his small murderous elf wife, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous Badassery, Ro Tabris is not here for Any Of This, basically a retelling of Captured!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualflower/pseuds/actualflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ro flicks the blade of the dagger up, just ever so higher on the man's throat, just barely digging into the soft flesh there.</p>
<p>"You will tell me where he is. And you will tell me now." Ro leans in the slightest bit closer. Fort Drakon, for all its pomp and circumstance, is simple to escape from. The guards are easy to fool and easier to kill, barely trained whelps sent to guard the already weak and feeble - well, not in her case. She is only missing one thing:</p>
<p>Alistair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll find you

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just a retelling of the Fort Drakon mission Captured! through the eyes of my city elf warden, Ro Tabris. It's pretty campy & self-indulgent, but I can't be bothered to care. Enjoy!

Ro flicks the blade of the dagger up, just ever so higher on the man's throat, just barely digging into the soft flesh there.

"You will tell me where he is. And you will tell me now." Ro leans in the slightest bit closer. Fort Drakon, for all its pomp and circumstance, is simple to escape from. The guards are easy to fool and easier to kill, barely trained whelps sent to guard the already weak and feeble - well, not in her case. She is only missing one thing:

Alistair.

And thus, why circumstance necessitates that she be currently scaring a guard shitless in a corridor filled with his dead brethren. She'd found all their gear in a chest somewhere in a seemingly-forgotten storage closet after getting close enough to twist the guard stationed outside her cell's neck, grabbing his keys, and running. If you look meek and small enough, no one bats an eye at a passing elf.

The man sweats under her gaze and mumbles something unintelligible. Ro's eyes narrow, and she presses and swipes until sheets of red decorate the guard's armor. "Maker-damned idiot." A quick wipe of the blade on a hanging tapestry, a check of the hallways around her, and she's running through the corridors again, silent as the wind. Maybe back to where her cell was, retrace her steps, try to find some other holding area? It's as good a plan as any-

Shit. She hops back into a corridor, already having spotted three guards in the next hallway. The clinks of metal suggest more further down. She sheathes her daggers at her waist, and grabs the bow from her back.

One, two, three - Ro leans and shoots one of them as they turn to face her corridor. Shouts and screaming and the sound of running follow. One, two, three - another arrow, another down. More shouts further down. More guards. One, two - a guard turns the corner, and she looses the arrow into his eye before dropping the bow (an internal wince at that - the bow was a gift from the Dalish) and whipping a throwing knife from her belt and into the next guard's throat. The woman goes down with a gurgle. No others, yet, but she has about thirty seconds before who knows how many come crashing down the hallway. She picks up her bow, straps it to her back, and cloaks herself in shadows the way her mother taught her.

Stick to the wall, past the wanderers - the guards are shouting, "Search for the prisoner! She doesn't leave alive!" but Ro's almost gone. She finds another room, empty, filled with cages and tables and devices that she doesn't want to think about. She can barely hear the shouts of the guards, now, but that's cold comfort. By now, the entire Fort will be on its feet. And she still hasn't found Alistair.

Ro hisses into the empty room, and moves onto the next one.

It's much the same, empty save for the memories of pain that cling to the walls. She sticks to the walls like the tapestries themselves, unseen and unnoticed. She finds a training hall, a mess, a mabari kennel; she's about to start tearing this place apart when a hand taps her shoulder as she moves to leave the latest in a chain of supply closets.

She whips around, lightning fast, dagger already halfway out of its sheath before she recognizes the overgrown pup standing before her. "Alistair?" He grins and blushes, pink turning to crimson when he realizes his state of undress.

"Um. Do you happen to know where I might find my armor? I seem to, ah, have been relieved of it." Ro almost, almost doesn't want to give him the armor she found in the chest with her's, but she decides against it. As much as she enjoys making him blush, keeping him alive is much better. She tosses it from her pack without a word, helps him buckle and latch himself into it when he struggles. She tosses him his sword and shield, and he grins. "Much better."

Ro answers his grin with one of her own. "Let's go kill some people."

They make their way through the Fort one hall at a time, eventually coming to a room with several ballistae and dead guards and, surprisingly, a tired-looking Sten and Zevran.

"Did you throw a party without us?" Alistair asks as they enter the room, startling Sten. Zevran, smooth as ever, acts completely unsurprised. The relief in his eyes, in both of their faces and demeanors, is palpable all the same.

"There was even cake and dancing - I could've given you a private show, if you'd asked." He blows a kiss to Alistair, and Alistair just blushes and frowns. Ro grabs a handful of his collar to tug him down and kiss his cheek.

"Mine," she growls, just loud enough for the others to hear. She releases him with much stumbling and Alistair griping about "why can't I be surrounded with normal people".

They all walk out of Fort Drakon together, bloody footprints leaving marks in the dirt.

Hours later, in the safety of Arl Eamon's estate, Ro is curled next to Alistair on a couch in front of a fireplace, flipping through the pages of some trashy romance novel in minor disgust and morbid curiosity while Alistair runs his fingers over her ear-tips. She pauses, finger marking where she is in the passage, and lifts her eyes to Alistair's, a sudden question sparking in her eyes. "In Fort Drakon. How did you get out of your cell?"

"Ah. That." He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, a blush spreading anew across his cheeks. "The, um, guard. Was easily fooled." At Ro's raised eyebrow, he elaborates. "I convinced him that I would be willing to, uh, lick lampposts."

Ro nods. "Same here."

"I had to knock him unconscious and I - wait, what?"

Ro sighs. "I tricked him into getting close, snapped his neck, and stole his keys. That is what you did, right?"

"You really snapped the guard's neck? With your bare hands?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Not at all. Actually, I'm more surprised that you didn't just make him snap his own neck using your strange elven wiles."

"Shut up, you dog."

Alistair did just that, kissing the top of his slightly murderous lover's head. "As you wish, my lady."

Ro just grunts and curls into him further, resuming her reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at kaytewrites!


End file.
